


warming and guarding and guiding

by ohvictor



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Other, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 02:11:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16735065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohvictor/pseuds/ohvictor
Summary: Mitsuki has a long and tiring day, but snuggling with his partners reminds him that he's loved and restores his mood.





	warming and guarding and guiding

**Author's Note:**

> hello! i wrote this fic for the [idolish7 flashbang](https://idolish7bang.tumblr.com/)! please check out the collection as well as the hashtag on twitter to see all the other incredible works made for this project! 
> 
> i was paired with [ian @arcsein](http://twitter.com/arcsein), who drew the incredible piece embedded in this fic! you can find his [post about it here](https://arcsein.tumblr.com/post/180508101738/)!!
> 
> title is from kindling (fickle flame) by elbow!

All day, Mitsuki thinks desperately about being home in bed. He has three _different_ photoshoots back to back in the morning, and then a long stretch of preparation for an upcoming web show in the afternoon, getting familiar with a new shooting location, then rehearsing lines with some of the most talented people in the business, which somehow makes Mitsuki feel even smaller than usual. And then when Mitsuki thinks he can finally sneak away and go home, Momo orders dinner for the whole studio, and Mitsuki has to stay.

By the end of it, the promise of curling up in bed later is the only thing getting him through each passing minute. He knows it’s showing, too, in his forced laughter and slumped shoulders, and he thinks if they were still rehearsing, he’d get a well-intentioned lecture about how he can’t allow his mood to impact his work. Mitsuki’s been told his skill as an emcee benefits from his usual bright attitude and wealth of energy, but what it feels like to him is: when he’s in a dark mood, the one thing he has going for him disappears too.

When Momo finally yawns and announces he’s heading out, the relief Mitsuki feels almost brings him to tears. Momo offers him a ride back to the dorms, and Mitsuki almost refuses, not wanting to put his gloomy self in Momo’s car where Momo would certainly pester him about his mood, but then Banri shows up with the big van, and Mitsuki climbs into the passenger seat and spaces out the whole drive home.

It’s not as if something awful happened. He’s just tired, but somehow, it makes all the thoughts he’s always pushing back even stronger. About how he’s useless, only dragging idolish7 down. How his unitmates only tolerate him, and his slow dancing and lackluster singing are just as glaringly obvious to everyone else as they are to him. When he looks at the dark car window, only his face reflects back, his expression dour. He squeezes his eyes closed and wills himself not to cry where Banri can see.

At the dorms, he stumbles out of the car, shakily unlocks the front door, and makes a beeline for his room. He doesn’t spare a glance at the common room, only noting that someone’s on the couch, and he knows he’ll probably be in trouble later, if someone saw him very clearly running off to cry in his room. Hopefully, it’s someone like Sougo or Yamato, someone who knows to give him space, and not, say, Iori, who _means_ well, or Tamaki, whose tact still leaves a lot to be desired.

They’re all so dear to him, and Mitsuki can only disappoint them. He throws himself on his bed just as the dam inside his chest breaks, and hot tears spill down his cheeks and soak shamefully into the duvet. He curls in on himself, his chest heaving as he tries to keep quiet. His whole body aches, and his heart aches most of all. A few minutes pass there in the dark, Mitsuki sobbing as quietly as he can, waiting for the tears to wash all the tension out of him so he can rest.

Instead, his phone buzzes in his pocket. When Mitsuki ignores it, it buzzes again. His hands are trembling as he digs his phone out and thumbs past the unlock screen.

_Conversation with:_ old man <3  
  
**old man <3: **yo mitsu, me and nagi are in the living room if you want company  
  
**old man <3: **you doing ok?

Fresh tears stream down his face. Mitsuki can picture the scene as it must’ve looked to his partners—himself, hurrying through the room with tears sparkling in his eyes, and Yamato and Nagi, sitting on the couch. Nagi probably half-rose to go after Mitsuki, so Yamato must have told them to stay. Nagi, whose fierce love for their friends and partners makes it impossible for them to sit still when someone’s feeling badly, who always makes Mitsuki feel safe and okay. Yamato, who can read the mood better than he lets on, who always manages to say just what Mitsuki needs to hear.

It’s very hard to see his phone screen through his tears. Mitsuki struggles to think of a response, and then settles with an emoji.

_Conversation with:_ old man <3  
  
**Mitsuki:** :’(

He can imagine in the other room, Yamato laughing at his silly response.

_Conversation with:_ old man <3  
  
**old man <3: **i see  
  
**Mitsuki:** Shut up  
  
**old man <3: **lol  
  
**old man <3: **do you want company or not?

That’s a good question. Mitsuki takes a breath, his lungs shaky and painful. He’s not crying as hard now, except his face is probably a mess, and his nose is leaking. On the other hand, it’s not like Yamato and Nagi have never seen him cry before. In fact, even if he doesn’t like remembering it, he’s sure they’ve seen him cry much harder than this.

_Conversation with:_ old man <3  
  
**Mitsuki:** Only if you don’t turn the lights on.

Yamato doesn’t reply to this, but after a moment Mitsuki hears footsteps in the hallway. The hallway light, sneaking in along the edges of his bedroom door, clicks off. And then his door opens, and the dim forms of Yamato and Nagi slip through the opening. Mitsuki can barely see them, but he feels the bed dip as they immediately throw themselves onto it, one body on either side of Mitsuki’s, like a partner sandwich.

“Mitsuki,” Nagi murmurs, winding their arms around Mitsuki and tugging him close. Mitsuki allows this, burying his gross face in Nagi’s shoulder and swallowing hard as the lump in his throat rises again. Nagi smells wonderful, like fruity shampoo and fabric softener, and they stroke Mitsuki’s hair, crooning quietly. “Are you okay, Mitsuki? Did someone hurt you?”

“No,” Mitsuki chokes out. He clutches at the soft fabric of Nagi’s pajamas. “I just... I just...” It’s useless, and he can’t hold back a sob, and then another, embarrassingly loud in the space between the three of them. And then he’s crying into Nagi’s shoulder, as if his body can do nothing but wring out all the grief and frustration of his day. He hates the way his voice comes out when he cries, too high and girly, but he knows these two won’t judge him. Nagi’s still petting his hair, and he feels Yamato’s hand on his back, gently rubbing the space between his shoulder blades.

“You had a long day, right?” Yamato says, and Mitsuki nods quickly.

“Mitsuki worked hard today,” Nagi sighs. “We should be pampering you. Oh! I can give you a massage!”

“Maybe you can take a shower and then we can pamper you,” Yamato murmurs. Mitsuki feels him scooting closer until he’s spooning Mitsuki’s back, nuzzling his face into Mitsuki’s neck. He presses a secret kiss there, and Mitsuki can feel him smiling.

Being surrounded, physically and emotionally, by love is restoring his sense of self even faster than crying usually does. Mitsuki squirms around in Nagi’s arms, now very aware of how sticky his face is. Yamato detaches from his back to grab a handful of tissues from Mitsuki’s nightstand, and Mitsuki buries his face in them, blowing his nose loudly in Nagi’s face to make them laugh.

“You gonna be okay in the shower?” Yamato asks.

“What, are you going to chaperone me?” Mitsuki huffs out a watery laugh. “I’ll be okay. You’ll be there when I get out, right?”

“Oh! We’ll wait with towels to embrace you as soon as you step out,” Nagi suggests.

“ _Don’t_ do that.” Mitsuki wriggles out of Nagi’s grasp, only to be ambushed by Yamato, who suddenly hugs him tight against his chest.

“Oi,” Mitsuki says, but Yamato just laughs and nuzzles at his jaw. “Let me go shower, okay? I’ll smell better then!”

“You smell okay now,” Yamato sighs, but he releases Mitsuki. “I missed you today.”

“You’re a sap,” Mitsuki says. He takes a deep breath, and finally, he feels like he can talk without starting to cry. “I had...a hard day, but... Coming home to you two losers...”

Even though it’s the truth—even though he wants them to know how much they mean to him, so much he could go on for hours and not even scratch the surface—he knows this will do the trick, and sure enough, Yamato groans and rolls over onto his face. “Okay, okay, go shower, stinkman.”

Nagi and Mitsuki laugh, and Mitsuki peels himself off the bed. His body is shaky still, but he already feels worlds better than when he had walked in the door just a little while ago. Of course, it’s thanks to his two idiot partners. He grabs his pajamas and then pauses in the doorway, looking back at the bed, his eyes adjusted enough to see Nagi, beaming at him, and Yamato, face still buried in the pillows.

His heart feels so full of love, it pushes out all the darkness. Revived, he steps out into the hallway, shutting the door gently behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> i've used a work skin here (for the first time!) - i used some helpful tutorials to [format the text messages](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6434845/chapters/14729722) and to [resize the embedded art for mobile](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15768186).


End file.
